


Sins of the Father

by thequeenbeegeek



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A lot of hugs, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28275438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequeenbeegeek/pseuds/thequeenbeegeek
Summary: A letter of Peggy's reaches Steve months after her funeral. The contents are....troubling. Steve hadn’t thought he could get any lower than Peggy’s funeral and the events that followed. Turns out he was wrong.Post Civil War AU.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 21
Kudos: 50





	1. The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I have posted since I was in high school. To be honest I'm quite nervous but if I don't push myself to put this out into the world then I will spend forever reworking it and never being satisfied. So here you are!

With the chaos of the days that followed Peggy’s funeral, it took nearly two months for the letter to reach Steve. He wasn’t sure how it had even found its way to him, though he suspected that Sharon or Nat were involved somehow. Still, walking into his borrowed quarters in the Wakandan palace to find a letter sitting on the table was surprising. Even more surprising when he recognized the curvy script that had shakily scrawled his name across the envelope. Heartache came boiling over once more at the recognition as he reached to pick up the envelope with a shaky hand.

Steve wasn’t sure how long he sat staring down at the letter in his hands. It could have only been moments, could have been hours. Time was lost and warped to memories that threatened to overwhelm him. Though he had been at her funeral, he had had very little time to truly mourn Peggy. Even now they were all safe, he hadn’t truly taken the time to deal with the loss of the woman who had been his compass both during the war and after the ice. Setting the letter down, he buried his face in his hands and let himself grieve for everything that was lost, laying to rest with Peggy his past and his dreams for the future that they had wanted to build.

It was dark by the time that Steve finally reached for the letter, hands shaking as he opened it. The envelope was thick, looking as though its contents had been stuffed into a space which could barely contain them. Unfolding the paper he found several photographs folded into the center of the letter, along with an unmarked thumbdrive. He gave them a cursory glance before setting them aside. The photos were of Peggy and her children, photos he had seen before on her nightstand, though he didn’t understand why she would have included them in a message to him. 

Unfolding the rest of the papers, Steve’s breath caught in his throat as he read the first line in the familiar handwriting.

_ My Darling, _

_ Should you be reading this, then this time I am the one to have left you behind and for that, I am so very sorry. But I didn't want to do it without a proper goodbye, not this time.  _

_ I have never blamed you, Steve. I hope you know that. Not for one second do I want you to feel guilty over your choice. I know if you could have returned to us you would have. I am just grateful that you have gotten a second chance at a life. _

_ I know my mind is not what it once was. They tell me you visit as often as you can, I wish I could remember. I only hope I haven't overly burdened your heart with each visit I forget. I pray that this moment of clarity will last long enough for me to tell you what needs to be said. _

_ Steve, darling, do not mourn for me. I have had a life well lived, filled with all its many joys and heartaches. I have always and will never stop loving you, but as I did, you will need to tuck that deep away and find room in your heart to love again. _

_ I have but two regrets in this life. Firstly, that I have lived my life, but you have not. Steve, please do not use me as an excuse not to live. You deserve so much more than the hand you have been dealt. Do not deny yourself happiness because you think you’ve missed your chance. We can not go back, all we can do is press forward. Steve, do not stop pressing forward. _

Lines and words blurred and merged together as tears clouded his vision, refusing to be banished or shoved back this time. The letter dropped from his hand unfinished onto the table. He wanted to yell, to scream, he didn’t want this hand they had been dealt. He didn’t want to constantly have to pick back up and fight, he didn’t want to greet each new day knowing that he had to put on a brave face and keep going on without her. Couldn’t he just be allowed to be selfish for once? 

Running a hand over his face to try and stem the tide of grief, Steve serged angrily from the couch. He wanted a fight. An excuse to hit something,  _ anything.  _ But there was nothing in the room worth taking his frustration out on, (or worth having to pay for once his anger cooled).

Why was it when he truly needed one, he couldn’t find a fight? That had never really been a problem for him in his life, there was always some asshole needing to be knocked down a peg or two. 

Restless legs carried him across the front of the room several more times before he stopped to stare out at the Wakandan capital city. His fist banged on the glass hard enough to rattle the frame but not quite enough to crack it. Even now, he couldn’t bring himself to fully lose control. 

Anger slowly giving way to grief, Steve stared blankly out into the city landscape. It wasn’t as bright and garish as New York, but it still teemed with a life of its own in the middle of the night. His own distorted reflection stared back at him until he couldn’t take it anymore. Eyes falling shut he rested his head against the cool glass, but it provided little peace.

Peggy wanted him to move on, to pick up and keep going, to find a place, a life. He'd tried that once already, found a footing next to the other Avengers, his friends, and look how well that had ended. And that had been  _ with  _ Peggy still in his life. 

“I can’t do it Peg...I can’t…” But he knew that was a lie too. He would, like every other time in his life. He would pick up and keep marching on like the good soldier he never was. What else could he do? Buck needed him, so it wasn’t like he was going anywhere. Pushing forward, though? What was there really to push for? 

He was done. He had given up the fight, the shield. But then again, that was part of the problem wasn’t it? Who was he without the shield? How could he move on, find and build a life if he didn’t even really know who he was anymore?

Steve stood with his forehead pressed against the glass until his feet grew numb. The walk back to the couch felt like miles before he sank down into the cushions. He stared at the letter for a long time before reaching to pick it back up. A long breath in and out before finding where he had left off, wanting to know everything that Peggy had to say to him but dreading the pain that was sure to follow the words. 

_ My second regret and greatest failure is one that I know I never had the strength to confess to you in life, regardless if I can remember our visits or not. Even writing these words down is difficult but you deserve to know.  _

_ Steve, we had a son. You had a son. I didn’t even realize it for months after the final confrontation with Hydra. Embarrassingly enough, Howard was the one that put together I was pregnant. His name was James Michael after Barnes and my brother and he was perfect. He was the best child a mother could have ever wished for. James was sweet, and kind, and protective of his sisters. He never could stand to back down from a fight, was forever bringing home lost puppies, and was more than patient with parents that worked long and strange hours. He never complained of having to care for his little sisters. Oh Steve, he was so much like you most days that it hurt. He had your smile and that devilish look in the eyes you would both get before you were going to get up to some mischief, but most of all he had your heart and your strength to always stand for what you believed in. _

_ And I lost him. Steve, I lost our son. They took my baby boy from me and I never found him. _

Here the handwriting became shakier and scrawled as if it had been hastily written in a desperate attempt to get the information out. A few words near the bottom were smeared, clearly from tears that had fallen onto the pages.

_ Masked men stormed our home as we were cleaning up from dinner. With SHIELD becoming quite formidable we assumed it was me they were after. We held them off while James ran to protect his sisters—he was so much like you, so very much like you. When it was over, the girls were safe in the panic room (Howard had insisted on installing the bloody thing) but there was no sign of James. Evie said he pushed them into the panic room and shut the door so a man couldn’t grab them. But she was only four and frightened out of her mind. She couldn’t remember much about the man who took her brother.  _

_ I have spent every year since searching. Using the full power and resources of SHIELD to find and bring James home. It is my greatest failure that I never found him, and my second was never being brave enough to tell you. I have no answers to give you, only regrets, and oh my darling, I ache at the thought of you reading this. _

_ I lost you both. I lost my baby. I lost my boys. I can’t find you, I can’t find either of you. My boys, my beautiful boys, I lost you both, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorr--- _

The letter abruptly ended the pen trailing off from the last letter like the hand that had been writing had just drifted off the page. There was a note at the very bottom in a different handwriting, sharper and crisper than the rest of the letter.

_ Steve, I am so sorry. Mother became rather inconsolable over the loss of James and then couldn’t remember why she was writing the letter in the first place. I am so sorry. I have included all the files that she kept with her on James’ disappearance. I don't know what good they will do after all these years, but I know she wanted you to have them. She never gave up on our brother. _

_ Know that she loved you very much and spoke of you fondly even when we were growing up. Far as Angie and I are concerned, you’re family. Mother would have wanted it that way. _

_ Evelyn _

Steve stared down at the letter in his hand, reading it over two, three more times before dropping it onto the coffee table to scramble for the pictures that had been included. The first one was of Peggy with a little boy of about five years of age, both grinning up at the camera. The second was a formal portrait of all three children, the boy much older, with the two little girls sitting on either side of his lap, all three grinning at the camera. While the girls looked like their mother (and still did as he had met them both) with dark hair and eyes, the boy,  _ James,  _ he corrected, had light hair and a smirk that was like looking in a mirror.

He had a son.

He had a  _ son. _

_ A son. _

_ James. _


	2. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the strongest man needs a shoulder to lean on.

Sam knew the knock on his door in the middle of the night wouldn’t be anything good. Everything had been quiet since they had arrived in Wakanda. No one had bothered the former Avengers—most likely because they were guests of the king. So a visitor to the “Avenger’s wing” in the middle of the night did not bode well. 

Stumbling out of bed, he tried to shake the sleep from his head, padding barefooted across the floor, gun in hand. He didn’t know what to expect when he cracked open his door, but Steve Rogers looking like a kicked puppy someone had left in the rain, wasn’t it. 

“Hey man…” 

Quickly flipping the safety on his gun, Sam set it on the little table by the door. He opened it all the way and stepped back as an invitation. “You know, last time you showed up at my door looking like shit, everyone you know was trying to kill you. Seeing as the whole world is after us at this point, I’m guessin’ that’s not the issue.” 

Sam looked Steve over as he moved into the room, he had seen the man face all kinds of hell and walk away from it standing tall. There was only one thing he had ever seen level him like this, well no, make that two: Bucky and his girl. The fact Steve hadn’t thrown even so much as a quip his way, had Sam on high alert. 

“So...you wanna talk about it?” Sam asked carefully, moving to turn on the lights and grabbing a shirt to pull on. Settling on the couch, gesturing for Steve to do the same. Steve, however, stayed rooted to the spot, staring out the window into the blackened night. 

Right when the silence was becoming unbearable (and Sam was getting unreasonably concerned), Steve finally broke it.

“Peggy—” his voice cracked, and he hunched over rubbing a hand across his face before trying again, still not looking over at his friend. “She—she wrote me a letter before she—” His voice broke and he shook his head, unable to finish the thought. “With—with all the mess that went down it...I finally got it.” 

Sam did his best not to curse under his breath. Broken was the best word he had for the man in front of him right now. He hadn’t even seen him this shattered at the woman’s funeral. 

Right as he moved to say something, Steve caught him off guard, finally turning to face him, thrusting a bit of paper at him. No scratch that, not paper,  _ photographs  _ Sam realized as he reached out to take them from Steve. 

“I...I had a son. Have? Had..?” Steve made a noise of frustration before sinking down onto the couch and cradling his head in his hands.

Sam blinked down at the photographs for a moment, staring at the boy in them. The resemblance was noticeable—now that he knew—but he wasn’t sure it was something he would have picked up on without being told. 

“He wasn’t at the funeral,” Sam guessed eyes lifting from the photographs to study his friend. “I remember the girls, you introduced ‘em.”

“He was taken, Peg—Peggy never found him,” Steve said, not lifting his head from his hands. 

“Shit,” Sam mumbled, staring at the photographs for a moment before setting them down. Scooting close enough, he laid a hand on the younger soldier’s shoulder. The moment he did, Steve let out a shaky sob as if the contact had forced it out of him. Sam didn't comment, just shifted to throw his arm around his friend's shoulders, letting them sit in the silence as Steve struggled to come to grips with yet another loss. 

It was a long time before either of them moved. The hitching of Steve’s breath the only sound in the room. Sam wasn’t entirely sure how to approach this kind of grief. To lose a child was an unimaginable loss, to lose one before you even got the chance to know them...

If he knew Steve, he knew the man was swimming in guilt, a burden he would insist on carrying no matter how many tried to remove it from his shoulders. He had done the same thing with Barnes and, to an extent, Peggy.

Guilt was a capricious beast at the best of times, and every soldier knew its presence, shouldered some of its weight. With Steve it always seemed like he was trying to take on the guilt for every person he had ever crossed paths with.    
  


Sam was no stranger to guilt himself, especially lately. Just when it seemed like he had finally made peace with Riley’s death, finally let go of the guilt, Rhodey happened. It had been like watching Riley fall all over again. He knew Rhodey had survived, but that hadn’t stopped his brain from putting the two crashes on interchangeable replay each night. So it wasn’t like he was in the best place to be calling Steve out on his habit of shouldering other people’s guilt, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try, just...maybe not tonight.

“She left—” Steve started finally voice cracking so he had to clear his throat before starting again. “Peggy left everything she had on the investigation to me. But she had the entire power of SHIELD looking for him, from the moment he went missing. Built SHIELD up with the drive of finding out what happened to him— _ James.  _ I don’t know how she thinks— _ thought _ I was going to be able to do what she couldn’t.” 

“But you’re going to try anyways,” Sam finished for him, shaking his head and giving his friend’s shoulder a squeeze. “Well, I already signed on for one crazy man hunt with you, why not a second?” 

This got a small huff out of Steve who finally dropped his hands from his face. Reaching over to pat Sam on the knee he attempted a watery smile that didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes. 

“Thanks, Sam. I, uh, I should get out of your hair and let you get some sleep.” He glanced around as if just noticing what the hour was before looking a little sheepish and making to stand. Sam stopped him with hand on his shoulder. 

“Nah man, I’m awake now. There’s no point. Wasn’t turning out to be a very restful night anyways. I would have been awake by now even if you hadn’t knocked.” He waved off Steve’s concern when the other man made to voice it. “Old ghosts, nothin’ to worry about.” 

Steve frowned but nodded in understanding and Sam knew he got it. They both had seen plenty of active duty. Some nights you could sleep just fine, others were like being back on the battlefield and there was no real rhyme or reason, some nights were just worse than others. It didn’t help that their day jobs were just about as bad, only stranger.

Despite the amount of training he had had as a para-rescue (and it had been extensive) nothing could have really prepared Sam for going up against and fighting alongside people with powers. He almost missed the days he thought being a dude with wings was the strangest thing in his life—almost. 

Moments later found them in a little kitchen in Sam’s rooms. Steve had spread out the documents on the table and commandeered Sam’s laptop for the thumb drive while Sam whipped them up a large breakfast. Quiet fell over the kitchen, broken only by the rustling of papers or the popping of the bacon cooking in the pan. Sam kept one eye on the food, the other on his friend. 

As breakfast neared completion, Steve sighed and dropped the papers to the table, reaching out for the laptop.

“Evelyn was right,” said Steve without looking up. “There isn’t much here. The last solid lead is from...almost forty years ago. Damn it.” Steve sighed again and ran a hand over his face. Shaking his head, he leaned back in to study the computer screen.

“Peggy did figure out why, why they took him.” He swallowed thickly, eyes still fixed on the computer screen, as if he could force it through sheer will power to give him answers. ”Somehow, despite how careful she was, someone put it together that he was my kid. Didn’t get more than that before the scientist committed suicide. Just another dead end.” 

There was no waiver to his voice, still Sam could see the cracks in the facade, that will power beginning to break under a mountain of new guilt. The expression was the same as when it had been Barnes: Steve had decided this was his fault. 

“Eat,” Sam commanded, setting a plate down beside his friend. “You don’t have to quit reading, just eat something while you do.” 

Sam gave Steve a pointed look, making Steve begrudgingly set aside the report and reach for his fork. Sam grabbed a paper from the top of the pile and started reading as he munched on a strip of bacon.

The rest of the night and early morning was spent pouring over every scrap of paper and every document on the drive. The case was detailed and concise. Sam had to admit that Carter really knew what she was doing when it came to detective work, leaving him little doubt as to how she had come to found SHIELD. Regardless of the good detective work, there wasn’t much to go off of and all leads had been pursued until they ran cold or hit dead ends. 

“Oh…” Sam murmured, sitting up straighter in his chair, reading the line over a few times to make sure he was right. Steve’s head popped up, expression anxious as he searched Sam’s face for clues.

“Did you find something?” Steve clearly trying (and failing) not to get his hopes up.

“Did you actually read Evelyn's transcripts or just the official report of the interview?” Sam asked. 

Steve shuffled through the papers in front of him until he held up a bundle stabled together. “Just the report...not a lot to go off of but, I mean, she was  _ four _ ...” Steve gave him a confused look. “Why?” 

“Because knowing what we know, I think I found something they missed.” Mouth pressed in a hard line, Sam turned the laptop around so Steve could see the screen and pointed to a line in the interview. He watched as Steve’s eyes darted back and forth over the screen, watching for when he reached the line that had caught his own attention. Sam didn’t have to read it again. He wasn’t sure the terrified little girl’s words were ever going to leave his brain.

**Director Carter** **:** Is there anything else you can remember, sweetheart? Anything about the scary man?

**Evelyn Carter:** He was scary, Mommy! He was so big! And—and the—the mask, Mommy, it was scary! Jamie pushed me into the room with Angie and—and the man was behind him with the mask and the shiny hand. 

**Director Carter** **:** Yes, darling, you are being so brave. I know it was scary. He took James and Mommy is going to get him back but I need your help. I need you to think about the scary man

**Evelyn Carter:** No, no Mommy I don’t wanna think about the scary man! (Subject too distraught to continue interview)

“Shiny hand,” Steve said, blood drained from his face as the realization hit him.

“There’s only one guy I know with something like that,” Sam said quietly. He wasn’t too pleased about the revelation and couldn’t imagine how Steve was going to feel about it.

“Bucky,” said Steve. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the kind reception of the story! I'm hoping to push myself to finish this so that there can be somewhat regular updates.   
> p.s. please let me know if there's any tag or format things I have missed. Still learning AO3


	3. James

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to thank my betas :-* y'all keep my comas from taking over the world thank you!

It was days before Steve decided they needed to bring Bucky out of cold stasis, and only after he and Sam had exhausted every possible lead. With much of SHIELD having been dumped on the internet (thanks to Nat), accessing the records wasn’t as difficult as it might have been otherwise. It didn’t prove as fruitful as Steve had hoped. The furthest they were able to take the investigation was to confirm their suspicions, that those who had taken James had been connected to Hydra and had been working within the newly formed SHIELD to keep Peggy from getting close. Using her own hard work against her. Rage pooled hot in his gut anytime he thought too much on what Hydra had done to her, to them. But it was a useless burn—rage wasn’t going to root out a poison from fifty years ago.

It was Sam’s inspiration that led them to their first true new lead. He suggested searching for sudden developments with the Super Soldier Serum. Steve hadn’t wanted to even consider this angle, hadn’t wanted to consider the reason for James being taken being  _ because  _ of him, because of what he had passed down. But the more he considered it, the more it made complete sense: James had inherited the serum.

It was then when they turned over a rock neither of them were expecting, one which utterly complicated matters in light of the current situation. There  _ had  _ been developments with the serum in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s. The project had been scrapped, and the research had vanished. But both Sam and Steve knew enough to read between the lines. It hadn’t vanished, it had just been claimed by Hydra. It had been what had created the other Winter Soldiers that Zemo had executed. The whole project sent up red flags in Steve’s mind, as so much of it had been off book, even for SHIELD. The serum was created using unknown blood samples, and nowhere did it seem like anyone involved questioned how they just showed up. And scrawled across the top of the entire project was none other than the name: Howard Stark.

For the first time in all of this Steve felt angry at something, at someone other than Hydra. There was no way Howard couldn’t have known where that blood came from! There were only two possible options: him or James. Yet this clearly hadn’t deterred the older Stark from using it. A bitter seed of betrayal planted itself in Steve’s mind. Whereas once he would have sworn up one side and down the other: Howard Stark was a good man. Now he wasn’t so sure. It made Steve wonder how much his friend had changed, and if there was a lot more to Tony’s bitter memories of his father than just regret. It also painted another light on the tragic mess that was the murder of the Starks, betrayal upon betrayal piling up around the older Stark’s death. 

The weariness—born of realizing he would never be able to stop fighting—was threatening to swallow him whole. He was tired, the kind of tired a good night's sleep did nothing for, though in truth he hadn’t had one of those in a while. Not for the first time Steve wondered if it would have just been better if he had never been woken from the ice. The thought was immediately followed by a mountain of guilt at the idea. He had so many reparations to make for everything that had happened because of him, to Bucky, to Peggy, to the world, and now to  _ James. _

__

Steve sat off to the side as Shuri and a few others he hadn’t focused enough to catch their names worked to attach Bucky's new arm, racing against the clock as his system worked through the sedative rapidly. They had begun administering it before bringing him out of stasis in hopes it would help keep him under long enough. It had been Bucky’s choice to go back on ice, and Steve was incredibly reluctant to do anything that went against his wishes. Especially when he had been deprived of free will for so long. But he was the  _ only  _ lead they had left, the only possible answer to what had happened to his son. 

The black metal of the new limb was less noticeable than his silver one had been, but the sight of it still made Steve’s stomach churn. It was based on the original, which T’challa had secured from Siberia, but Shuri had assured him in many words he didn’t completely follow that it was quite different. Steve was humbled by Wakanda’s generosity, willing once more to gift them with the treasure of the country: vibranium. Composed mainly of the precious metal, the strain of the prosthetic would be negligible. Not to mention it would now be much harder to blast off. There was also a way to detach it from the shoulder joint now so that the entire structure could not be ripped from his body should something yank on the arm, which, in their line of work, was a distinct possibility. 

Steve couldn't see what they were doing through the blur of movement around the pristine white table Bucky was lain on. He knew better than to ask how things were progressing; in all likelihood, asking would just slow the process, and they were racing against the clock as it was. This was one area he could offer no assistance in. He was here for two reasons: security (should Bucky wake up fighting) and familiarity (should he wake up in a panic and need a familiar face). Luckily, as the clock ticked down the hour, he was needed for neither. Before long the room emptied till it was only him and the sleeping form on the bed. 

The silence and starkness of the room felt oppressive. Previously, Steve had admired the beauty of Wakandan architecture, its ability to blend natural structures with man made construction, but now the dark walls of stone felt like they were closing in on him. The stark white of the lab, steril and cold, reflected the harsh and glaring light, making his eyes burn and his head ache. 

Seeking something, anything else to focus on, Steve had turned his chair so he could look out the window, staring out into the busy capital city. But up here, looking down on it all, he felt so far removed from the life and the bustle. It was all too easy for his mind to become ensnared in a vicious cycle of what if’s. Chief among them: what if he was going to hurt his friend further? What if they were going against his wishes for nothing? So much depended on the potential existence of memories in the mind of the man who lay on the lab table behind him, memories that had been wiped out of his mind. Memories that Steve only had the weakest hope were still there. Bucky had said he remembered everything during their brawl with Tony. Said he remembered the mission in ‘91. Question was, would he remember one from ‘62?

And then there was always the possibility that a four year old’s memory of a terrifying moment was inaccurate and he was pulling Bucky out ahead of schedule for nothing. 

“Sleeping beauty woke up yet?” Sam’s voice caused Steve to jump, thoughts scattering as he whipped his head around to look at his friend. Sam had paused near the table, arms crossed as he glanced down at Bucky’s prone form, seeming to choose not to comment on startling Steve. 

“No,” Steve sighed, slumping back into his chair, rubbing a hand over his face, shaking his head. “They said the sedative has worn off, it’s just a matter of him waking up.” Shrugging again Steve sighed and slumped forward, shoulders hunched, head hung low. Sam wordlessly moved to lean against the glass next to the chair, glancing out over the city. Steve didn’t miss the less than subtle glances he kept shooting his way. Sam looked as if he was waiting for Steve to look up to say something, something tinged with concern if his expression was anything to go by, but Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge that worry.

“Steve?”

For the second time in just a few short moments Steve started, though this time the voice brought with it a icy cold wave of guilt. Steve was up out of the chair and to the side of the table in seconds.

Bucky lay propped up slightly on his right elbow, looking around in confusion. Hesitantly reaching out to lay a hand on the other man’s flesh and blood arm, Steve tried to offer a reassuring look. He could see the panic in Bucky’s eyes as the man glanced around the room, glancing at Sam before landing on him.

“Easy Buck, I’m right here, I—”

“Why am I awake?” Bucky cut him off, roughly moving to push himself up to a sitting position before freezing, eyes jerking over to his left side. “Oh…” 

“They finished the prototype,” Steve explained, looking a little sheepish, as he had been the one to go against Bucky's wishes. “I told them to go ahead and fit it. They needed you awake to test the hook ups.” The man on the bed just nodded, eyes fixed on his new arm as he lifted it, rotating the wrist a few times as if to test the joint.

“‘S good,” Bucky rolled his shoulder a few times testing the truth of his statement. “Feels lighter than the other.” There was a numb detachment to the statement, Bucky’s face not giving away his thoughts. 

“This one’s made out of the same stuff as the shield,” Steve offered, stuffing his hands in his pockets, a clear sign he was uncomfortable. Bucky just nodded again, rolling his shoulder a few times but not commenting. An awkward silence fell over the room.

“Alright spit it out, Rogers.” Bucky finally huffed, leveling Steve with a look that had the taller man shifting uncomfortably where he stood. “You’ve got that look like something’s eating you alive. And I swear if it’s guilt over this,” he held up his left hand, “I will knock your thick skull with it until—”

“It’s not,” Steve cut in quickly. Though the moment his eyes jerked down to look at the prosthetic a flash of guilt flitted across his face contradicting his words. “That’s not...I didn’t wake you ‘cause of…” He blew out a long breath, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. This was  _ Bucky _ , why were words sticking to his throat as he tried to force them out?

“We need your help,” Sam cut in, pushing himself off the wall and moving to stand beside Steve, giving his friend a pointed look. One which seemed to say: okay, I opened the door, but you’ve got to do the rest.

Ducking away from Sam’s look, Steve sighed, hand running over his face a few more times before slumping in further on himself as he turned back to a rather concerned looking Bucky.

“It’s probably a ghost hunt, I—Peggy left me one of her cold cases.” Steve shuffled uncomfortably, “I was hoping you might—that there was a chance you—”

“You wanna know if I remember anything,” Bucky cut off his fumbling, his voice flat. His expression tired, but emotionless. “Cause it was something I did.” 

“We don’t know if uh...yeah.” A pained look crossed Steve’s face before he launched into an explanation. “There was an abduction, in ‘62, a kid. The only witness describes a man with a metal arm. They wouldn’t have—”

“Witness?” There was skepticism behind the word, but no need for Bucky to elaborate. The Winter Soldier wasn’t known for leaving witnesses. 

“His four year old sister saw the whole thing. She—” Steve explained before being cut off again.

“Who was it? The kid, who was it?” Steve could see the growing dread creeping across Bucky’s face. Steve wouldn’t have woken him up for just anyone.

“Peggy’s oldest.” Steve sighed. “Peggy thought that whoever took him was probably keeping him alive and, given that we now know it was Hydra, she was probably right, at least back then.” As he spoke, he fished the pictures out of his pocket and handed them over to Bucky, the photo of the three kids together on the top. Bucky took the photos frowning as he looked them over. He flipped them over and caught sight of the dates. Frowning up at Steve he narrowed his eyes.

“Carter’s kid, I get why that’d be important, but what aren’t you telling me? Cause this kid’s too old, he would have had to have been born—”

“Right after the war...yeah...” Steve mumbled, distinctly avoiding Bucky’s eyes. It took a moment before the realization dawned across Bucky’s face.

“Wait... _ you knocked up Carter?”  _ Bucky gaped at Steve for a moment before a disbelieving laugh burst out of him. Despite the gravity of the situation Sam grinned too, as Steve turned a vibrant shade of red sputtering out his protests. 

“Bucky! I-that’s, that’s not the point! I-” 

“Yes it is! You _ knocked up Carter _ ! Hell, I didn’t think you could keep two words comin’ out in the right order around her, and you are telling me you got in her pants?” 

Sam couldn’t keep a straight face anymore and gave up trying to hold back his chuckles earning him a red faced glare from Steve. While Bucky didn’t chuckle after his initial laugh, his smirk at Steve’s discomfort only lasted a moment longer before the gravity of the situation settled back on them.

“He looks like your mom,” came the quiet response as Bucky stared at the photos he had been handed. Steve looked up in surprise, clearly unsure about how much Bucky truly remembered. “He looks like how I remember Sarah. You can tell he’s Carter’s kid though too…” Bucky sighed, running his hand over his face and letting the photos drop into his lap. “But I don’t remember him.”

Steve’s whole self wilted, though he just nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets, clearly not wanting to make Bucky feel guilty, but his disappointment was tangible. 

“It’s alright Buck, I knew it would be a long shot. I just thought maybe with what you said to Stark ‘bout rememberin--”

“I lied.” Bucky cut in, voice flat and tired. “S’what he needed to hear, wasn’t gonna listen to reason, not that I think any of us would have after seeing—” He cut himself off with a shake of his head, the weight of the Winter Soldier weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Silence settled heavy over the room before Sam cleared his throat and stepped up next to Steve. “There might be a way to find the memories.” He paused at the slight wince that came from Bucky. God knows how memories might have been retrieved from him in the past. “I mean we’ve got a mind reader on our side. Let Wanda do her…” Sam wiggled his fingers before shrugging. “I mean, it couldn’t hurt to ask, right? Or we talk with Shuri. You were already trusting her to work to get the command codes out.” Sam held up his hands as Steve made to argue with him, cutting off protests before they could be voiced. 

“Let’s at least ask them if it’s a possibility. The worst either one of them can say is no. And really, what other lead do we have? Other than knocking down Hydra’s doors one by one, we’ve reached the same dead end Carter did.”

“I’ll do it,” Bucky cut in quickly.

Steve was torn. On the one hand it was a good solution. Either Wanda or Shuri might be able to find the answers they needed. On the other hand, the last thing he wanted to do was to put Bucky through anything else.

“Buck—” 

“If it really was me that took your kid Steve, then you’ve gotta let me make this right.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue with him, but one look from Bucky silenced him. He might not like it—at all—but it was Bucky’s choice, and he would be damned if another one ever got taken out of his hands. 

“Alright then…” Sam sighed after a moment of tense silence. “I’ll see if I can track down the girls and see if this is something either one of them are up to.”

Patting Steve’s shoulder, Sam slipped out of the room, leaving the other two men in silence once more. 

“What was his name?” Bucky asked looking down at the photo in his hand.

“James.” 

  
“Oh?  _ Oh.”  _

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a prompt on tumblr from several years ago that has yet to leave me alone. 
> 
> https://thequeenbeegeek.tumblr.com/post/120826950800/marvel-fancast-meme-1-callan-mcauliffe-as  
> I can promise you that there will be more, but it will not be prompt or regular in the posting of the new chapters. I do hope if you like it that you stick with me for a bit as this may take a while to get it all out.


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